


All The Horses and All The Kings Men

by Atqh16



Category: Avengers (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Denial, Grief/Mourning, Infinity War AU, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-25
Packaged: 2019-04-27 19:44:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14432772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atqh16/pseuds/Atqh16
Summary: THIS IS NOT INFINITY WAR SPOILER. I HAVEN'T SEEN THE MOVIE. This is just a one shot AU I thought off and felt like writing. It felt like it suited Loki and Thor more than any other brother's in fandoms I'm in.*It doesn’t sink in very quickly. To say Loki was slow to digest the news was an understatement. In fact, it was as if he had deflected the news entirely. Thor, his big brother, former king of Asgard, eldest son of Odin and the idiot who would fall for his tricks every single time was dead.And Loki was at a bar having drinks boasting about how he’d won the war for this miserable blue sphere of a planet with his cunning strategy.





	All The Horses and All The Kings Men

**Author's Note:**

> AGAIN, not a spoiler for infinity war. I haven't even watched it. I just thought of a oneshot that seemed to suit these two and the setting of infinity war sort of felt right for it. Think of it as a oneshot au. Enjoy !

It doesn’t sink in very quickly. To say Loki was slow to digest the news was an understatement. In fact, it was as if he had deflected the news entirely. Thor, his big brother, former king of Asgard, eldest son of Odin and the idiot who would fall for his tricks every single time was dead.

And Loki was at a bar having drinks boasting about how he’d won the war for this miserable blue sphere of a planet with his cunning strategy.

None of the Avengers are there. All of them were too busy mourning in their tower. Not even the fellow ‘Guardians of the Galaxy’ that had joined in their battle were there with him.

The only person who was there was Okoye. The dark skinned warrior from the country he’d never seen. She never spoke. The only times she ever even moved was to tip the glass of spirits down her throat or crash it against his whenever he held it up in victory.

But otherwise she didn’t tear her eyes away from the thousand mile stare at her own reflection off the glass on the bar wall. When she did turn to face him, he wished she hadn’t because than he could see the tears stains that marked a path down her cheeks like a river run dry, before she opened her mouth to say the only thing she’d said to him all night.

“My love, is dead”

He hates how such a small choice of words suddenly have the ability to wrench out an overpowering reaction from him. How they turned his skin cold and blue and his blood to ice that twisted at his insides and lurched up his throat. But they were so similar to a few choice words that had been uttered earlier to him as well.

**_“Thor is dead”_ **

And really how unfair is it that all his fun would be ruined just like that.

“Well you’re not much of a conversationalist are you?” He asks but she’s back to ignoring him. Going for a second attempt at boring a hole in the back wall of the bar. Really he shouldn’t have expected much from such depressing company in the first place.

With a huff, he gathers his coat and marches out the door in to the cold winter hail of New York that awaited him. But the breeze that should have rejuvenated his senses with every breath instead brushes against his face like needles. Exhaustion weighing his every step till he’s too tired to move and too bitter to go back in. He suddenly feels the same way his father had looked that last time they’d been together on that cliff over the sea. Worn, stiff and torn at the edges. For the first time in his life his ageless existence doesn’t make him feel godly or exalted. It just makes him feel…… old.

_Damn that woman._

He allows himself half an hour of a leisurely stroll on the streets before he decides that there’s not much to enjoy in the rubble and destruction around him. Going back to the room that had been designated for him at the tower however doesn’t seem like a good decision when he’s barely two steps through the door when a loud bleeping light starts flashing across his face.

“Receiving a call for Loki of Asgard”

“Yes! Yes! Answer. Just answer!”

He manages to sneak into his room before the loud click of an answered phone call reaches his ears.

_“Hello?”_

It’s stupid really. He shouldn’t have had any hope that the call would provide him any distraction at all. But he’s restless and agitated despite the heaviness that has sunk into his bones and there’s a chance he might claw at his own skin if he didn’t have something to do. So he breathes, a deep controlled inhale and speaks. His voice alluring and lustrous as it always was when he’d started a game and expected his corresponding counterpart to play.

“Jane Foster…. How….. Delightful.... Scurried out from whatever hole you’d been hiding in have you?”

_“Is it true?”_

“I don’t….”

_“Is he dead Loki?! Is it true?!”_

He frowns. A flicker of anger coming to life in his chest at not having his game indulged. The shadows that have been creeping at the edge of his mind all day slithers ever closer but he clamps and grits his teeth, barring them back.

“I would’ve expected you to ask the Avengers. Too busy fixing things to answer a simpleton’s call I suppose?”

_“It’s not…..I thought…….. I thought you’d try to get him back. That’s what he did. When you died the second time. He tried to get you back. He wouldn’t stop or listen. He just… he wanted you back and I’d thought you’d try the same thing. It’s why we……. I thought you’d try to get him back?!”_

Loki’s breath halts in his throat. His chest constricts. The darkness that had been merely a presence, consumes him and he falters. Falling on the bed, hands reaching out for anything to help ground him in the throes of panic that suddenly threatened to choke him.

But his hand brushes against something coarse and he looks down to see a black, crusted leather eye-patch merely inches away from him.

**_‘It’s all that’s left. There’s nothing. It’s all that’s left’_ **

The fool. The idiot. He’d tried to get him back all those months ago. To bargain for his life from the gates of Valhalla. But you needed a body for that to even have a hope of being successful. A vessel unto which you’d restore the soul.

But Loki had left. The second he knew Thor was gone he’d left that accursed plane and he left nothing behind. Allowed himself a gleeful pleasure at imagining Thor coming back to bury his brother and instead finding nothing. But he’d never imagined Thor would have attempted to bring him back. It was such a foolhardy, irrational, stupidly loyal thing to do and in that respect he supposed he should have expected it from his older brother.

And now, now it’s his turn. Now here he is staring at the last thing he has of his older sibling because he has literally nothing left. Not old cloaks or books or paintings that had been left behind when Asgard was destroyed. Not old friends and family he could go to and reminisce past stories and memories. Not a body he could give the honor of arranging a King's funeral for.

Not even the benefit of having enough time to enjoy what great legacy his brother surely would have brought for his people had he still been alive to lead them.

There was literally nothing left of his brother and Loki feels himself finally shattering at the thought he realizes he’s been holding back all day. A soft choked cry rising from his throat.

Because his brother is dead and there is nothing left of him or for him, not anymore.


End file.
